When you become an adult, the change comes with certain expectations. Social norms dictate that once you’re older, you’re supposed to know better. But after what I went through this past year, I’m beginning to question whether this is at all true.  Because even as adults… even with all those years of experience; we can still make fatal mistakes.

And today, I was going to face the aftermath of mine.

Nothing in my 32 years of life could prepare me for what I saw when I looked into the window of that padded room. Guilt, along with a healthy dose of fear, bubbled inside me as I peered into a glass partition not even big enough for a child’s head to fit through. It was set upon a locked steel door at least three inches thick. They told me it was mirrored on the other side so that the person inside the cell wouldn’t know when someone was looking in on them.

But I knew better.

As soon as I placed my hands on the door to brace myself as I leaned into the glass, his eyes drifted towards my direction. The same beautiful eyes that captivated me a year ago. He was dressed all in white, institutional clothing. His slim torso surrounded by the straps of a straightjacket that bound his arms awkwardly around his body. He was seated on the floor covered with cushions a foot thick, his long legs crossed. There was no bed, table or chair in his room.

“Why is he – “ I attempted to ask, but my voice came out in croak and the rest of the words wouldn’t co